


Someplace Safe to Rest Your Head

by SeaSpectre160



Category: Super Sentai Series, 宇宙戦隊キュウレンジャー | Uchu Sentai Kyuranger
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 21:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaSpectre160/pseuds/SeaSpectre160
Summary: Nightmares were a common fixture in Stinger’s life.





	Someplace Safe to Rest Your Head

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Nightmare Club](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10633776) by [Windona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windona/pseuds/Windona). 
  * Inspired by [headed straight for your heart (like a bullet in the dark)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620333) by [kathillards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathillards/pseuds/kathillards). 



> This is more or less a companion fic to ‘Actions Have Consequences’, so you may want to read that first.
> 
> Thanks to ‘Insert a Catchy Penname Here’ on FF.Net for the beta.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Kyuranger or any of its characters. They belong to Toei.

Nightmares were a common fixture in Stinger’s life. They had been for years, ever since his brother betrayed him and everyone else. It quickly got to the point that it was actually _unusual_ for him to sleep through the night without waking up in a cold sweat, overwhelmed by the visions of blood and fire. In fact, pretty much the only times he slept without dreaming were after he’d gone a seriously unhealthy amount of time without sleep, and he just crashed on his bed or whatever he’d improvised as one.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a _good_ dream, or even one that was just neutrally _weird_. He had no escape. That was how badly the darkness had consumed his life.

He never told anyone else about the nightmares. Not even the Rebellion Commander, although he suspected that the Draconian was aware to some degree. And if anyone noticed the dark circles under his eyes after a particularly bad night, they never commented on them (at least, not to his face). Since his quarters on the Orion were all but soundproof, he also never disturbed the other Kyurangers when he woke (although he wasn’t usually the type to wake up screaming, so it wasn’t like he did much that _would_ indicate to them that something was wrong).

However, his sleeping habits (or lack thereof) did come to Champ’s attention while they were hunting down Scorpio, especially after the incident with Mika. Stinger had stayed up all night while they were digging graves and burying the slaughtered townspeople, even when Champ told him to get some rest. Between that and his exhaustion from the multiple fights over the course of those two days, he couldn’t help but fall asleep while sitting against a tree when they made camp that night. He dreamed once again of the night of his brother’s betrayal, only this time Mika was with him, slaughtering his friends before being gunned down by the Indavers.

He woke with tears streaming down his face and tripped over a tree root when he surged to his feet in an instinctive fight-or-flight reflex. It actually took him a couple of seconds to recognise where he was, and that he wasn’t alone.

“Oi, you alright?” Champ’s voice made Stinger practically jump out of his skin, his tail whipping out to hover over his shoulder, ready to strike once he found the threat.

Unfortunately, the only threat present was that of embarrassment, because now Champ was staring at him like he’d lost his damn mind. Hell, with all the shit he’d been through in the past few years, he considered that maybe he had, a little.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

It was a lie, and he knew it. He was fully aware that he hadn’t been ‘fine’ in a long time, but that didn’t mean that Champ needed to know about that.

When the android pressed the matter, Stinger made up a lame excuse about going to get more firewood and retreated into the woods, just to get some space to calm himself down. He didn’t sleep any more that night, but he did crash the following night and had one of his rare dreamless sleeps.

Stinger didn’t want to sleep after he was briefly reunited with his brother, after his brother regained his trust just so that he could betray him _again_ , and after Champ was blown to pieces shielding him. He didn’t want to deal with the new nightmares that would be created from this disaster, so he stayed up all night, trying to keep himself occupied and distracted. The day kept replaying in his head: the shocking, new, _monstrous_ appearance his brother had taken on, the lie that he’d fallen for _so easily_ , Champ pushing him out of the way, and the fireball that scattered the various bits and pieces of his teammate’s – his _friend’s_ body.

He kept himself awake until he was at Rebellion HQ, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. If he had allowed himself to sleep the night before, even for whatever short amount of time that would have elapsed before the inevitable nightmares woke him up, he probably would have had enough stamina to last the whole day. But instead, he wound up passing out while sitting on the bench outside the maintenance bay, less than an hour after arriving.

Normally, if he crashed from sleep deprivation, he didn’t dream. He knew perfectly well that forcing himself to this was _far_ from a healthy coping mechanism, but he often used that to his (debatable) advantage, to get just a little bit of peace. Unfortunately, the dreams came anyway, this time.

Everyone he ever knew and cared even the slightest bit about was dead. Their bodies were piled on top of each other as fire raged all around them. All their voices echoed in his ears, telling him that he was the reason they were dead. Because he couldn’t get there in time to save them, because he put them in harm’s way, and because he wasn’t a good enough reason for Scorpio to stay away from Jark Matter. Blood flowed like a river from the mountain of bodies, and he was soaked in it, _drowning_ in it, struggling to reach the surface.

He saw his team standing on the shore above him, all gazing at him accusingly. “This is because of you,” their voices said, even though their lips never moved, and then explosions and flames engulfed them all, and he was sinking, sinking-

He woke with a strangled scream, something that did _not_ happen often, and fell off the bench with a painful crash.

Kotarō was standing there, still bent over the bench with his hand outstretched around where Stinger’s shoulder may have been. “Stinger?” he asked tentatively.

Stinger didn’t answer him. He scrambled to his feet and all but fled to the room that had been set aside as his when he’d arrived. Once the door was shut, he slumped against it and screwed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears that were already flowing. He couldn’t breathe, his chest feeling like it was being crushed under a heavy weight. No matter how much he gasped, he couldn’t seem to draw air in.

Darkness consumed him some time after. He would later realise that he’d hyperventilated and passed out. At least he didn’t dream, this time.

He spent most of his time at headquarters sitting on that same bench. He didn’t go to meals in the cafeteria, but Kotarō always showed up with food for him, and wouldn’t leave until Stinger had consumed every last crumb. The kid tried to get Stinger to talk about what happened, but he just… It was all too much. He couldn’t open the floodgates, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the pain and sorrow once he did.

Sometimes, when the exhaustion was too much, he would retreat to his quarters and collapse onto his cot, where the nightmares would consume him with nobody watching him. And when someone chased him away from his vigil, he retreated to the same room and kept himself busy by crafting some small plush figures in the likeness of his teammates. Each time one was finished, he would set it on the table in front of Champ, so that they would be the first thing he saw if he ever powered back up (the techs assured him that it was ‘when’, not ‘if’, but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his hopes only to have them dashed yet again). He didn’t include one of himself; he didn’t think Champ would want the reminder of the screw-up who put him in that state in the first place.

Eventually, he had enough of sitting and waiting. He wasn’t doing anything to help Champ’s recovery – he knew the Commander had just sent him there to get him out of the way – so he made up his mind. He had to put an end to Scorpio’s reign of terror. Each body that dropped, every bit of blood that was spilled, was because of him. Because he couldn’t stop his brother when he had the chance. Now he had to make that right. Even if it killed him.

Which was fitting, as there was only one possible way for Stinger to overpower his brother: Antares. The dangerous forbidden technique that would boost his strength and agility at the cost of his own life. There were two extra Kyurangers now, so even if Champ never recovered, the prophecy of the Nine Saviours would still hold.

With all of this in mind, Stinger did what he felt he had to do. He took the two Argo Kyutama, unaware at the time that Scorpio had the third and could complete the set, and he arranged a meeting with his brother.

He used Antares, only for it to prove futile, as Scorpio had him defeated within the space of a minute. The other Kyurangers showed up, Naaga was stabbed, and the image just kept playing throughout Stinger’s mind as Scorpio took him away.

The pain of Antares kept him awake, never permitting him to drift off while he was held captive. He only lost consciousness when his brother poured his own venom into Stinger’s veins, and when he woke up, it was to a nightmare he couldn’t escape.

He was trying to kill his friends. He was nothing but killer animal instinct as his brother’s voice whispered in his mind, told him to take all his anger and pain out on Kotarō and Lucky. He was going to watch two more important people in his life die, and this time, it was going to be his own two hands snuffing out their lives-

Except it wasn’t. Kotarō managed to get the antidote into him, and the three of them teamed up to defeat Scorpio – no, the four of them, as Champ unexpectedly showed up – alive and whole and ready for a good fight.

Scorpio switched his allegiances at the very last second, with an alarming abruptness. He took the poison of Antares into himself, saving his little brother’s life, before shielding the whole team from Don Armage’s attack in his final moments.

That night, Stinger didn’t dream; while he was no longer in danger of dying from Antares, the venom had done its damage to his body while it was still in there, and Raptor would give him powerful painkillers that rendered him unconscious in mere seconds while he recuperated in the infirmary. As much as he hated how weak the drugs made him feel, he was sleeping better than he had in _years_ , and he found himself dreading the night he would be taken off the painkillers, because then the nightmares would come back.

And of course they did, this time with a vengeance. Everything seemed to hit him all at once: the destruction of his village, all the horrible things he’d seen as a spy for Rebellion, Scorpio’s second betrayal of his trust, Champ’s ‘death’, the agony of Antares, and what he almost did to Kotarō… all of it. While he was not normally prone to screaming in his sleep, his yells that night were so loud that Spada, whose room was right next to Stinger’s, was woken despite the nearly-soundproof division between their rooms (the key word being ‘nearly’). It was worsened by the fact that a lot more people on the team heard him when said companion opened the door to check on him.

It was only Spada’s reflexes that saved him from getting stung (possibly fatally) when Stinger woke with the team chef crouched over him and gripping his shoulders. It was all mostly a blur for the traumatised Kyranger, but according to the others, he lashed out immediately when woken, with both his tail and his fists (Spada didn’t quite manage to dodge that). He then jammed himself into a corner and started sobbing and hyperventilating, like he had that first night back at Rebellion Headquarters.

As it were, the first coherent memory that Stinger had of that night was of gasping for breath while a bruised Spada tried to talk him back to reality and Kotarō clung onto his arm. The second was of realising that his entire team was in the room and staring at him while he was losing it.

It had been a terrifying moment for all of them. They’d all experienced horrible things – how could you not, in a universe where Jark Matter ruled all? – but now every bit of hell that Stinger had been through was hitting him all at once, and it was a scary thing to watch.

He was forced to admit to it all: the fact that he had been unable to sleep through the night since his brother’s betrayal, that he was forced to relive the worst horrors of his entire life every single night, and that he was starting to fall apart under the strain. There was no more denying the latter – he had begged for death even before Champ took the hit for him, and he’d gone up against Scorpio with the intent of dying with his only hope being that his last actions would partially make up for his poor judgement throughout the whole debacle.

There was a huge part of Stinger that honestly expected them to dismiss him as broken, useless to their cause. He was pretty close to doing that himself. Only a tiny part of him was expecting what they actually did. Sort of.

Stinger found himself being gently herded to the rec room and ushered to a seat while everyone else dragged in pillows, blankets, and air mattresses. It was gently explained to him that sometimes, when one of them had a nightmare, the others would bring them here, and they would all sleep in the room together, to remind everyone that they were safe there. Only Stinger and Kotarō and the new guy, Tsurugi, didn’t know about this tradition; because Tsurugi was still new, Kotarō always went straight to Stinger’s room whenever he had nightmares, and Stinger had never told anyone about his until now. The closest indicator they’d ever gotten was that embarrassing time that a Daikaan had turned him into a five-year-old and he’d had three nightmares in the same night, which they all knew about because he’d been put to bed in Kotarō’s room.

There were a few informal rules: no one slept alone, you didn’t have to talk about your nightmare (most did talk about it, though), and there was no judging what others had to do to feel safe.

Despite his protests that they didn’t need to do this, really, most of his teammates settled down onto the mattresses and got comfortable. Tsurugi and the Commander were the only ones who declined, but they both wished everyone a sincere good night before leaving. Stinger wound up on the same air mattress as Kotarō, and the youngest Kyuranger curled up into a ball against his chest. The others took up position on mattresses all around, not touching him, although some were close enough that they could easily do so if they wanted to.

He found himself succumbing to sleep much more quickly than expected, but the nightmares came back almost immediately. He dreamed of finding Kotarō’s bloody body and everyone telling him that it was all his fault-

He woke with a start. Voices were calling his name, somebody was gripping the end of his tail (probably to avoid another near miss), and someone’s arms were wrapped around him from behind, although he couldn’t tell whose (the arms felt organic and too large to be Kotarō’s, but that was all that his brain could process in that state). It took him a minute to realise that he was crying again, if not as violently as before.

He must have been muttering Kotarō’s name in his sleep, or something, because even though he didn’t tell anyone about his dream, the kid seemed to have a good idea of what it was about. Kotarō moved so that he was looking Stinger in the eye and spoke to him: “I’m okay, Aniki. I’m right here. I’m alive, and I know you would do everything in your power to keep it that way.” The kid then shifted again, and gently pulled Stinger’s head forward so that his ear was pressed against the boy’s chest. “You can hear it, can’t you?”

He could. Stinger could hear the steady beating of Kotarō’s heart, proof that the kid was alive and well. He wrapped his shaking arms around him and pulled him closer. He knew he should be embarrassed about the tears, the ones that Kotarō _had_ to be feeling soaking through his shirt, but the youngest Kyuranger said nothing about them.

Whoever was holding onto his tail finally released it. The arms that were wrapped around him loosened and shifted, but didn’t let go. Someone’s fingers were running through his hair. At any other time, two of these three things would have had him snapping at them indignantly. But right now, he couldn’t care less about dignity, because for once he felt _safe_ , something he hadn’t felt for a long, _long_ time.

For the first time in forever, Stinger slept peacefully.

 

THE END


End file.
